SAPLING #58 — Lost in lines
If I give you my hand, shall we get lost on the map together?
It wouldn’t be unlike losing yourself in a city, or along the lines of a story. Every sentence will lead to another, but never back to the beginning.
When I close my eyes, I can see the landscape into which we are born. The depths of the dark valley, the small house on the outskirts of the hamlet with the unpronounceable name. I can see the stars grow pale and the ragged outline of the treetops drawn against the brightening sky. I can hear our mother screaming and the midwife chasing our father from the room, as we come into the world on a trail of blood.
We carry similar lines in the palms of our hands, we fit like a puzzle. But life will cover its tracks in strange ways. You never know where the road might end and the trail will go astray. With every step, we choose, without realizing we do.
Eyes fixed on the map, I took the lead and called for you to follow me. But when I looked up again, the landscape had changed faces and I was alone, my hands ablaze with loss.
I have looked everywhere for you. On every street corner, in every train station, behind every desk in every office. I have come to know the folds in the map so intimately that it will sometimes surprise me that the road in front of me doesn’t dent.
We learn to live with the insecurities of traveling. We enjoy the sunlight while it lasts and take cover for the worst of the storm. We brush the dirt off our clothes and keep on going. We learn there is nothing we can hold on to forever.
Even though we know the blueprint of the map by heart by now, some kinds of longing can’t be shed. Stubbornly, we keep trying to find a way back, like salmon fighting the stream, to the place where the wind in the treetops sings a song that sounds like home.
Life seems to enjoy having people turn in endless circles. Or is it us who are blind to the signposts, rigidly holding on to the same old patterns over and over again, hoping they might, one day, lead us somewhere different after all?
Sometimes, the blueprint takes pity on us, or so it would seem. That’s when it has two wandering souls, both with their eyes fixed on a map, bump into each other.
Astonished, we stand. We read the lines in each other’s faces, a travel log of all covered ground. How often have our tracks crossed? How many times have we missed each other by a breath?
I let go of the map. It is blown away, shred to snippets on the wind. I reach out my hands, and you take them. They are older, worn and weary, but the puzzle in our palms still aligns.
I can’t promise I’ll know the way, this time. But if we get lost again, let’s do it together.
The SAPLING series is a joint project with artist and illustrator Jurgen Walschot.
Saplings are creative sprouts. I will write to the images, he will draw to the words.
